Angels And Devils
by heroesfan1
Summary: An exploration of what happened between the explosion at Kirby Plaza and the future we saw in Five Years Gone. Claire's fallen in love with an angel who's a devil. Sylaire.
1. Chapter 1

_Five Years Gone Universe, a month after the explosion in Kirby Plaza_

_Somewhere in Los Angeles..._

_Urgh_, Claire thought to herself as she glanced up at the old, outdated television screen. Nathan was on again. It made her _so _angry. He had just... _Sat_ there and let New York explode. Letting hundreds die. And now he was on the way to becoming president? She shook her head. That was wrong.

She absentmindedly flicked the kettle on, wiping up maple syrup from the table in front of her. She brushed her blonde locks away from her eyes, trying not to focus on Nathan's obnoxiously loud voice that screamed through the cafe. She was pretty happy with her job. Compared to other jobs, she really did have it pretty good. Not that it paid millions or something, but it was just enough for her rent. _Just._

Her thoughts drifted to her dad. Her real one. Noah. He said he'd come see her in a while, but they both knew it wasn't true. He wasn't going to risk anything by coming near her too soon. Or ever. A tear slipped free of her eye, and she quickly wiped it away.

She hated this whole thing. Ever since Nathan had won that stupid election, everything had become so complicated. Specials were getting tagged left, right and center and there was nothing anyone could do about it. And the worst part was, the election was a _lie._ He and Angela had orchestrated the explosion, killing _millions_, so that he could be president. It made her so _angry..._

She turned towards the door, swiping at her face. A dark haired man with an unmistakable smirk on his face walked in. She stared at him, wondering if she'd seen him somewhere before. He looked so familiar...

"Like what you see?" His voice snapped her out of her daze, and with a jolt she realised she'd been staring. Her face turned a bright red.

"Urm..Uh.." She stuttered, trying to think of something to say. His smirk grew wider.

"I'll have the coffee, thanks." He leaned back in his seat, cocking his head to the side and giving her an obvious once-over. Claire's face grew hot.

"Right, I'll just go get the coffee then!" She turned on her heels and high-tailed it to the kitchen as fast as she possibly could.

Sylar watched her with amusement. This was going to be _fun_...

* * *

Claire returned with the coffee almost seconds later. "Urm, that will be 3.35." She didn't know why she was so tongue-tied. She'd been around guys before. Jocks, nerds... The guy in front of her definitely wasn't a nerd or a jock though... He was tall, and has these really beautiful brown eyes. His face was stubbled slightly, and she had the strangest urge to see how that would feel under her lips. She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts from her head.

The guy seemed to read the thoughts in her head, his smirk seemingly growing wider. She lowered her eyes at his gaze, which seemed to burn right through her soul. _"And the Petrelli wonderboy does it again!"_

She cursed to herself as Nathan's voice came on. She was tired of hearing about him. In a fit of anger, she grabbed an apple from a nearby table and flung it up at the screen. She hit it, and it rattled, shaking from the impact. The apple bounced off the screen to the floor, bruised and battered. She breathed heavily, trying to get a hold of herself.

"Well, I'm guessing you didn't vote for him, then." A calm, deep voice said from behind her. She turned towards the dark-haired man once more. Thank god there was no one else here, she'd get fired for sure..

"Well..." She huffed, grabbing a cloth from the table and mopping at an imaginary spill on the table. She felt a hand cover her own. She looked up carefully, his deep brown eyes making her heart pound. "I'm sorry..." She chuckled bitterly, pulling her hand away and pushing her hair away from her face. "I don't even know your name." His eyes flashed with something familiar and ultimately compelling.

"Gabriel." He smirked, reclining in his seat. "Gabriel Gray."

* * *

"Nice to meet you Gabriel." She held out a hand for him to shake. "I'm..." He cut her off, taking her hand a shaking it, grinning.

"You're Claire." He gestured to her nametag, dropping her hand and Claire immediately felt the loss as the cold air stung her palm. She shivered. She had always hated winter.

"Yup, that's me. Claire." She muttered, grabbing her cloth and turning away from him and wiping over a table that was covered in apple crumble pie; she didn't even want to know where that red sticky thing came from.

Sylar regarded her closely. She was... Different. Special. He could feel it, thrumming beneath all that blonde hair. She would live. Even after he got her power. Both of them would be immortal. Living together until the sun burned up and melted against the sky. Interesting. He sipped his coffee as he watched her clean out ugly black coffee stains from a table in front of him. He took in the way the gentle slope of her waist, and when she turned slightly so he could see her eyes, the cyan blue that intermixed with the emerald of her irises. Fascinating.

She smiled softly to herself as she mopped up a brownish-black coffee spill. She could feel his eyes on her. He was at least a couple of years older than her, she knew, and her mom would never approve of him. But... She liked him. Maybe even like liked him. He wasn't cute, more dark and dangerous, a combo that she liked very much. And she liked his smugness, just slightly. It worked for him.

Sylar grinned as he read the thoughts in her head. He _really _liked this ability. It was fun. And more than slightly amusing, to think that this girl had spent more than a year running away from him, now thought he was attractive. This opened up a whole new realm of possibilities.

He got to his feet, slapping her tip on the table. "Nice to meet you, Claire."

Claire stared at his retreating back as he moved toward the door, realizing that this had been the closest to forgetting about Nathan she had come to since she'd found out about him.

"Wait!" She called out after him, the words tumbling out before she had time to proof-read them. He turned to face her slowly, his face an unreadable mask. "Do you want to urm..." A little smile was playing on his face now.

"Yes?"

She forced herself to finish the sentence. "Do you want to do something later? After my shift finishes? Like at 5?" She bit out that prize-winning cheerleader grin that Jackie had taught her when she had first become a cheerleader, trying hard to cover up the trembling fear of being rejected.

His seemingly natural smirk returned full force. "I'll meet you here."

Claire couldn't stop the smile that bloomed on her face as the door clanged shut, leaving her alone. She whooped and spun around, dancing alone in the empty coffee shop. Her first date since Brody... Hopefully it went better with him. She grinned, laughing. _Yes. _Things were looking up.

* * *

Sylar was unsure of this turn of events. He walked down the street away from the diner, considering the newfound possibilities. He now knew that Claire was going to live, even after he took her power. Which meant that he and her would roam the earth until the end of time. Possibly, the only two to do so. Which left him... Where exactly? This date... She had given him a direct opportunity to get her power for good. But... Once he did this, he would have burnt a bridge that would be oh-so-hard to rebuild. He wasn't delusional, he knew that he had to have some form of companion in his life. He had, _briefly,_ enjoyed Elle's company when she'd turned up again. Until she found out that she was a manipulative bitch, if there ever was one. And since she'd been gone(dead), he had to admit.. He was lonely. He needed _someone_.

It was strange, that this anxiety, this _fear_ at the thought of being alone had started in another diner with coincidentally, another waitress. A red-head, Charlie who could remember every single thing she ever read. He had taken one look at her and he could see it; the blood clot in her brain that was building. Like a clock ticking out of synch.

Then that Japanese guy had shown up. He was absolutely infuriating, and Sylar had been slightly humbled by his lack of power over the man, who stood at least a foot under him. He had offered him a trade; to help Charlie, and in return he would tell him about his future. He had expected glory, and sure enough, the Japanese man had told him that he would become powerful, the most powerful of them all... But. It came with a downside.

_You'll become strong, the strongest of them all. But in the end, it won't make any difference. We all gather to stop you. You're alone. No one will mourn your death. No one will shed a tear. No one._

_ I will tell you how you die. You die alone. I'm sorry. _

It frustrated him. He was afraid. He didn't want to die alone. A small part of him wanted, _craved_, love and acceptance. He needed it. He fisted his hands in frustration and a streetlamp nearby shattered. His pace increased speed. He was almost at the end of the block.

Claire was... Claire was his answer, his evolutionary imperative. And she would live forever... She could be his _someone. _But that was ridiculous. She was the prey, he was the predator. A forbidden fruit. Two worlds apart, and sworn enemies. Then he remembered the thoughts in her head, the way she'd smiled at him. _She didn't know who he was._ A slow, sly smile grew on his face. He could always charm her, get her to trust him,_ love_ him, before taking her power... It had definitely worked on that Maya girl... And Claire would forgive him, he was sure of it. She had that kind of feel about her, like the little girl who always waiting up for her father until 12 am on her birthday, simply because he promised her he'd be home. He had seen it, in her mind. Loads of disappointment, hurt, _love_, pain... And if she had forgiven her father for all the things he had seen, she'd without a doubt forgive him. They had all the time in the world anyway.

And as for if he liked her... She was beautiful, quite honestly, and if he had a type, forbidden fruit would be it. She didn't seem like a complete airhead either, despite the hair colour. This could work. And of course if he really didn't like her, he was _sure_ that there was some way around her power. Besides, he thought, smirking, he was always up for an adventure.

Plan in mind, cogs turning at a furious speed, he glanced down at the cracked frame of his watch, admiring it minutely. It was 4.49. He turned on his heel, making his way back in the diner. He had to pick up his evolutionary imperative.

**xxxxxx**

_17 months later..._

"Claire..." He whispered into her ear, and she groaned as his hands moved down her body.

"We really shouldn't leave the dishes in the sink.." She protested weakly as he straddled her, pushing her back against the sofa. He leaned down and kissed her deeply.

"Gabriel..." She pleaded as his mouth moved down her neck. "Come on."

_"Claire.."_ He whined. "You know I hate doing the dishes."

"You are such a child." She laughed, then abruptly stopped as he sucked at her neck, sighing, her eyes closing.

"But you love me." He whispered in her ear, his voice suddenly low and husky. It was unfair, how he could go from whiny and adorable to sexy and sinful in a blink of an eye, Claire thought as his mouth continued her torture.

"I do." She whispered. She pushed him back abruptly, her mouth fighting back against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. He groaned and she chuckled against his neck.

"I think living with me has corrupted you." He forced out as she licked a trail down his neck and playfully bit on his ear.

"And that's a bad thing?" She gasped as his arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her into the air as he stood.

"Who said that?" He kissed her deeply, before leaning back. "I never said that."

He whisked her away into the bedroom, letting the door slam behind them.

**xxxxxxx**

Sylar woke to the sound of Claire's even breathing beside him. He sighed and nuzzled closer to her, breathing in her scent. In a strange way, it always seemed to calm him down, especially after one of _those_ nightmares. He'd always wake up halfway through them, after he'd stuck the knife in Virginia's chest, the blood pouring from his hands seeming to drown him.

Oddly, Claire had been appearing in them recently. He shuddered as he remembered the most recent one. He'd just finished killing Virginia when Claire would enter, her eyes wide and teary. "Gabriel?" She'd asked, her voice shaking.

A bloody line drew itself across her forehead and she sank back against the wall, tears falling from her eyes. "No." He'd stepped closer to her. "Sylar."

And then her eyes would go dead and he'd run toward her, shaking her, but she didn't heal, and then he'd sit there for hours as her blood pooled around them and her voice would echo in his ears.

_"Gabriel.."_

He cursed under his breath and hugged her tighter against his body, before pushing her away and sitting up. She didn't wake, just snorted and rolled over. A small smile tugged at his lips. She could sleep through almost anything.

He cursed again, getting to his feet. It hadn't really been part of the plan. Sure, yeah, they were supposed to live happily ever after and he'd take her power and she'd forgive him and all that.. But he hadn't expected to care this much about her. He knew all these things about her, what she liked for breakfast, what her favourite colour was... All that _rudimentary_ stuff... Ordinary.

Except it was never ordinary with her. She made things like loving toast with eggs(benedict) and strawberry milk exciting, and absolutely adoring the colour blue seem unusual. _Special._ And somehow, even though the whole reason he'd been after her was her power, and he was sure she was to attached to him not to forgive him if he did decide to take it now, he didn't want to.

He didn't want to watch the expression on her face when she realised who he was, didn't want to watch her heart break and fumble to heal in front of his eyes. He didn't want to see the disappointment, the hurt, the tears. He didn't want any of it, but his fingers twitched at the thought of her power. His eyes closed momentarily at the thought of feeling it running through his veins, _understanding _how it worked. He breathed in and turned back to the bed, jumping on it and stretching his arms. He listened; Claire didn't stir. He rolled over to face her, wrapping an arm around her stomach and pulling her into him. At least this would keep the nightmares away for a while.

**xxxxxxxx**

Claire yawned, stretching out her arms and trying to shake away the morning stiffness in her bones. She could smell the toast here, and blindly she stumbled to her feet, wrapping the sheet around her body and following her nose.

Gabriel was standing in her kitchen, setting her eggs benedict down on her toast.

"Eggs." If Claire was able to focus on anything but the rumbling in her stomach, she might have noticed that he wasn't wearing anything but a towel. And that his hair was wet from the shower. But no, as Sylar had long figured out, Claire wasn't able to focus on anything in the morning at all, except eating and hitting the snooze button on his alarm clock with more force than strictly necessary. It was pretty adorable actually.

"Here." He said bemusedly, setting her plate down in front of her and sliding the strawberry milk over to her.

He sipped at his coffee, patiently waiting until she finished eating. This was the best part; she blinked, shook her head and stared at him, like she'd only just realised he was there.

"Good morning." She greets, smiling. And then he watches her eyes take in his state of dress. He watches as her breath catches in her throat and a smile tug at her lips. And then he doesn't watch anymore, because his eyes close as he kisses her, slow and deep.

"Good morning." He whispers, opening his eyes and watching her blue-green ones sparkle and her lips stretch into a huge smile. And even though this happens almost every Saturday morning, it's still one of most special things in the world to him. And that's the moment that he realises he's in love with her. And that if he's going to break her heart, he's going to have to do it soon before he doesn't have the heart to anymore.

**xxxxxxxxx**

It was a week later when she got the call from Angela.

She hadn't said anything, just announced tightly that she'd be arriving in a week, and that she would like to speak to Claire _alone._ Partly, Claire wanted to tell her to go to hell, but she decided against it. She might bring news about Na-Peter. She doesn't care about Nathan anymore. Nope. Not at all.

As it happened, Gabriel was going out that afternoon anyway, so it wasn't like she had to kick him out of the apartment. She wanted to tell him, wanted to tell him about everything that had happened, wanted to tell him about her powers and Peter and Nathan and Noah... And she would. A guilty ache tugged at her heart. She just wasn't sure when.

What was a good way, she wondered, while waiting for Angela to arrive, to announce that she could regrow her toes (yes, she had tried) and that her family had been directly involved with the blowing up of New York? How does one start that conversation?

A knock at the door saved her from having to answer the question that was swirling in her head. She didn't want to think about this anymore. She could imagine the look of disgust on his face, and now, even Angela seemed like a good distraction. She yanked open the door, unsure what she'd see or hear.

"Hello, dear."

**xxxxxxxx**

Angela walked through the threshold of the... _Quaint_ apartment. She eyed it critically, not in anyway oblivious to the lack of photos on the walls except for a single, framed photo of Claire and... She sucked in her breath. Yes. Her dreams had been accurate.

"Why are you here, Angela?" Claire's voice was more steely than she remembered. The last time she'd seen the girl, she had been screaming bloody murder at the top of her lungs. Her lips stretched into a thin smile. What happy memories they have.

"Sylar has been spotted. Here." Claire's breath caught. She can see the girl's throat move as she gulps, the fear evident in her eyes.

"I haven't seen him." Claire clears her throat, willing herself not to look scared.

"And how would you know, dear?" Angela remarked dryly. "You never saw him. Which is why," She pulled the photo out of her bag, "I brought you a picture."

She knows that seeing it will hurt, but she's almost sure he's going to hurt her more. It's better that she knows anyway.

"This is Gabriel." Her voice is a whisper, hoarse and ghostly. "There's been a mistake."

"Gabriel?" Angela's eyebrows arch. "Gabriel Gray?" When Claire nods, she forces a grim smile. "Gabriel Gray _is_ Sylar." She pretends she hasn't seen, hasn't seen what's been going on. It's easier for both of them that way.

"I said," Claire pushed the photo back at Angela firmly, but she can see her hands shaking from here, "there's been a mistake." Claire swallowed. "Gabriel would never..."

"Maybe he wouldn't, but Sylar would." A voice, dark and husky, runs through the room. Gabriel's arms encircle Claire's waist and she gasps as she watches Angela freeze rigidly in front of her. He drops a kiss on her neck, and lets his arms travel down her body, stopping at her waist.

"Gabriel." Angela's condescending tone makes his hands squeeze hard at her hips and she holds back a sob. Everything is coming crashing down around her again and it's hurting more than that day on the highway with Noah and the Haitian. She wants it to stop. She wants to wake up with Gabriel holding her tightly in their bed on a Saturday morning.

"Well, Claire," He drawls into her ear, sounding so far off from the Gabriel she knows that she can almost force herself to believe it's not him. "We can't always get what we want." His cool gaze moves to Angela, who gulps audibly. All Claire can wonder is for how long exactly Gabriel's been reading her mind.

"And Angela, you know not to make me upset. It's hardly healthy." Angela chokes, and Claire tenses. "Only Claire, because she's so very _special_," his tone drips with malice, "is allowed to call me that." Claire shudders, and he's not sure if it's disgust or the fact that his mouth is brushing against her ear. He releases her hips and pushes her away from him, watching her as she turns around slowly. This is the last time he's going to be able to look in her eyes for a while, and he needs to see how she's looking at him.

"Why?" She sounds so broken, and the tears are already dripping down her cheeks. "Why didn't you just take my power? Why did you have to," She stops, brushes her hand across her face, "Why did you have to do this to me?" Her voice is angry now.

"Because Claire," both of them have forgotten about Angela, still frozen in place by his telekinesis, "I need someone." His voice is low, and she can't help but close her eyes as he brushes a finger down her cheek, stopping at her collarbone. She can feel his breath on her face, and almost as if compelled, her head tilts upwards toward his. He smirks, his fingers tangling in her hair too roughly for him to be Gabriel, but she's entranced by his words as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against hers. "I don't want to be alone." His voice is lower now, more predatory, but Claire feels like she's being pulled to him by this imaginary force. He's still Gabriel, a voice in her head tells her, and as hard as she tries to pull it out of her head, tell herself that this is wrong, but she can't. He can't possibly have been pretending all that time, it's just not possible, a small voice in the back of her head pleads, and Claire has to agree. It's not possible.

"I never said I was pretending, Claire." His voice still sends shivers down her spine. "I am that man I was with you, just a little more..." He pulls her head backwards with her hair, "sinister, maybe." His lips crash down on hers and her toes curl and there's still fireworks behind her eyes. Her hands automatically tangle in his hair and she kisses him back for all it's worth. She's kissing Gabriel, she insists, but they both know that Gabriel is a part of Sylar, and Sylar is a part of Gabriel. And somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knows she's fallen in love with Sylar as well.

He pulls away from hers, and she sees his eyes. They hold something more than greed, which she had convinced herself was the only emotion Sylar had. He looks like he's as torn and broken as she is. He whispers something in her ear, and disappears, right in front of her eyes. Angela falls to the ground, gasping for breath. An act of mercy.

She's fallen in love with the devil and the angel at the same time. She doesn't want to, but his last words are replaying again and again in her head.

_"I'll be seeing you, Claire."_

* * *

**Special credits go to julyisfree, for helping me with this, THANK YOU.**

**There should be another one-shot coming up soon to accompany this, as well as a one-shot from the Fighting With Fire-verse which I AM working on. I hope you liked this and PLEASE *gives puppy dog eyes* pleasepleaseplease review if you can!;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2: Fallen Angels And Mere Immortals**

"You know you can't save her from him, right?" Hiro's Japanese accent was long gone, and his voice hummed in a low echo throughout the tunnel.

"In every future, he will find her." Hiro repeated as Peter moved around their painstakingly handmade timeline. Peter froze, turning to face him, dark eyes flashing. It was in times like this that he found his friend very Italian Mafia, especially with that long scar across his face.

"Oh, I don't want to save her." Peter said coolly. "If she wants to fuck that bastard, it's fine with me. But I am going to kill him, one way or another." He traced his scar absentmindedly. "I gave up saving her a long time ago."

Hiro sighed as he remembered the circumstances under which he had gotten that scar. He could understand Peter's anger; he had promised Claire he was going to kill Sylar, after hearing from Angela what Sylar had done. He had posed as an innocent, gotten close to her from what he understood. Claire, who had been cutting up an apple, had frozen: rigid.

Hiro had understood. She was in love with him, no matter what the circumstance. And she probably suffered more than the younger Petrelli brother would ever realize because of it. He understood that she wished she did not love him; her torment was clear in her face and her body language. But Peter, who had been so wracked by guilt over the explosion, had seen it as her taking sides with him, something he knew Claire would never do.

The conversation had ended badly, with Peter calling Claire an unfriendly and from the dictionary's translation, insulting English term: a "whore" and Claire yelling and accidentally (or purposely, it hadn't really been clear) slashing him across the face.

They had just stared at each other for a few seconds, before Claire had grabbed a cloth and tried to stop the blood that had been flowing from Peter's face.

"Why isn't it healing?" She had asked brokenly as he pushed her backwards and away from him, disgust etched onto his face.

Peter had turned away from her and stalked towards the door, gesturing for Hiro to follow. He had looked at her one last time before saying in a cold voice, "Because I don't want it to anymore. I'm done with you Claire;" He paused, turning away. "You and your power." The door had slammed, and even Hiro, whose English at the time had still been questionable, had realized that a powerful bond had been broken. It had been more than a few years, but he could still hear the sound of Claire's broken sobs echoing throughout the apartment as he left.

**XXXXXXXXX**

_Midland, Texas_

Claire watched the TV shaking her head at Nathan. He was at it again. His plot for genocide. Honestly, she had thought he couldn't stoop any lower. Obviously, she had been wrong. She smiled as Andy wiped the counter in front of her, giving her a secret smile.

She sighed, leaning forward to press their lips together. He kissed her, his hands coming up to rest on her shoulders. A bolt of frustration ran through her when she tried but couldn't get that tingly feeling she had when-when _he_ kissed her. Because, and it was becoming a bad habit, now every guy she dated was immediately compared to him.

And Andy was sweet. He was endearing and funny (but not witty, like Ga-No, Sylar had been), and he cared about her feelings and talked things out with her and never pushed her on what she did and didn't want to do. He was every other girls rendition of perfect, with blue eyes and blonde hair, except for her. Because she wanted dark brown hair and hot-coal-black eyes that seemed to burn you alive when they looked at you.

Ugh. She pushed that thought out of the way, and placed her hands on either side of Andy's face, kissing him as softly and sweetly as she could. After all, they were getting married. Because she loved him (yes, she did, and she wasn't just saying that), and he had proposed.

But in her heart of hearts, she didn't love him like _that_. Like fire and ice and passion so deep you couldn't explain it; she loves him like she loved Zach: Like her best friend. A really attractive best friend, but...

Nevertheless.

She sighed as they broke apart. She grinned up at him, hoping he wouldn't see the flicker of a frown that threatened to bloom. _God, this was exhausting. _The worst part was the lying. It never ended. She grabbed her bag from the cupboard under the counter, pulling away.

"I need to go home to get ready." She shot him an apologetic look, brushing her hair back from her face. "Lock up?"

Andy nodded, grinning widely. She gave him a final peck on the cheek, turning to the back door.

She shuddered as the wind brushed an icy path down her back. She _still_ hated winter. She grabbed the bag of trash from beside the door and dumped it into the garbage, wrinkling her nose.

"You still hate the cold, I see."

She froze, going rigid.

"And," She could feel his breath on the back of her neck now, "you still love me."

She took a deep breath, mustering as much strength as she could. She needed to push him away, keep her anger at him. She wasn't going to survive any other way.

She spun around, ready to slap him, punch him, attack; but then she saw him. In the 3 years 7 months he'd been away, he'd grown. His shoulders seemed broader, his face less angular and sharp. He looked older, but in a good way, like he was finally growing into his own skin. His dark hair was pushed back, hanging mildly behind his ears. The spikes were gone, and she found herself missing them slightly. His eyes were the same though; thank god, still dark and deep and beautiful. And his lips... Her eyes fell away from his face as she tried to force her hands into sub-mission. She wasn't going to hug him, she was not.

She watched him carefully, the way the corners of his mouth pulled themselves into that over-confident smirk that she would love to hate. Instead, her heart rate sped up and she could feel the flutter of butterflies in her stomach. Traitorous body.

He stepped closer, his hand coming up to brush her now dark locks away from her face. She inhaled sharply, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt the warmth of his fingers touch her face.

"Can't say I like the hair though." She heard him say. "I preferred you blonde." He whispered, leaning in closer so that his lip brushed against her ear.

She snapped, her hands flying from her sides into his hair, pulling him down to her. His lips were warm against hers, so eager to fight back. Not like Andy, who was sweet and gentle; treating her like fragile glass. And she could feel the tingles again! Her hands fisted in his hair, tugging at the ends as she moaned softly into his mouth. She could feel the brick wall cutting into her back, but she didn't care. He bit down on her bottom lip, and she felt the blood, copper and rust on the tip of her tongue as she dug her nails into the back of his neck for revenge. He chuckled, and the sound resonated down her body in the best way.

He pulled back, gasping for air, his eyes sparking. "Missed me, did you?"

She pulled him forwards again, locking her arms around his neck and breathing in deep. He smelled like home; mint and cinnamon.

"Sandra?" Claire's eyes snapped to Andy, who was looking at her from the back door in confusion. He must have finished locking up. She felt Sylar tense slightly under her arms. She gave him a warning look as she pulled back, mentally reprimanding herself. What was she doing, kissing him like that?

He was _off limits._

_"_Andy, this is..." She trailed off, biting her lip and looking back at Sylar. His eyes were dark and predatory as they looked at Andy, his jaw tense. "Gabriel." Maybe that would calm him slightly. She felt his hand come up to her shoulder, tightening painfully. _Maybe not._

_"_My brother." She finished, struggling not to wince as her shoulder was almost crushed under his grip.

Andy's face immediately cleared. He smiled, reaching out a hand to shake. Sylar stared him down, keeping a grip on her shoulder.

Andy withdrew his hand, looking disappointed. Claire wanted to put a hand on his shoulder, comfort him, but she didn't think that would help things. It'd probably just make Sylar angrier. And that would not be good.

"Is he here for the dress rehearsal?" Andy asked finally, clearing his throat.

"Uhhh..." Claire glanced back at Sylar, whose jaw seemed to be twitching. She turned back to Andy unsurely, trying to think of an answer that wouldn't hurt either of them.

"Actually, that's what Sandra wanted to talk to you about." His voice came from behind her, smooth and cold. "Our father's been admitted to the hospital. She won't be able to make it." She turned around, glaring at him. He gave a half-shrug, a mean smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh..." Andy nodded, looking so concerned and solemn that Claire itched to hug him. It wasn't fair. She wished she could feel differently. She lowered her eyes to the ground, trying to subdue the guilt that ate away at her heart.

"We'll reschedule then." Claire reached for Andy's hand, squeezing it gently.

"Thanks," she murmured, pulling away from Sylar's restraining hand and hugging him. "It means a lot." She pulled back, out of his reach, and she felt Sylar's hand curve restrainingly around her shoulders.

"I'll see you Monday." Andy gave her a reassuring grin. Sylar's arm dragged her down the alleyway, barely giving her enough leeway to wave goodbye to Andy.

The walk back to her apartment was silent, and Claire's stomach was doing butterflies. Was he mad? Was he going to go back and kill Andy later? Her stomach twisted in knots and she struggled to keep herself under control.

"This is me." She stopped outside her front door, hoping he'd make this easy on her and leave before she had the chance to miss him.

He merely looked at her with raised eyebrows and gestured for her to open the door.

She fumbled with her keys, her palms sweaty. The minute she got the door open, he pushed her against the wall, his hands squeezing on her neck.

"Gabriel? You introduce me to _him_ as Gabriel?" Claire gasped for air, squeezing on his shoulders.

"Let me down!" She snarled, scratching at his face. He let her down abruptly, letting her drop to the floor. He had her back up against the wall in an instant though, his hands pressing on her waist.

"You have to earn Gabriel." He growled into her ear. Before she could respond, his mouth was on hers and all thought left her brain. She could only think of responding, and half-whispered moans as his mouth traveled down her neck.

Her jacket went first, strewn across the living room floor. Then her top. The jeans. Underwear. Bra. Boots. Socks.

He was still fully dressed, his eyes flaring up in the dark. He looked angry. _And su-uper sexy,_ the hormonal side of her whispered.

His arms came up around her waist, then her knees, cradling her back against her chest. He carried her into her bedroom, depositing her on the bed. He didn't join her. She propped herself up on her elbows, just taking him in.

The lights outside slid in through the windows, leaving him as merely a silhouette, dark and imposing. He shrugged of his jacket, before sliding out of his top.

Even in the dark she could make out his muscled chest, which seemed to have grown muscle-ier since the last time she'd seen it. She licked her lips, before biting down hard. What was she doing? She had a fiance. Something she seemed to keep forgetting. What was she doing here, naked in her bedroom, with the man who'd changed everything? Made everything bad? Practically ruined her life?

_You might never see him again..._ Another part of her brain whispered. _Or at least, for a long time._

She relented, leaning back at watching him. He sat on the edge of the bed, still and unmoving.

"You couldn't wait for me?" He finally said, his voice deeper than a few years ago, stronger somehow. "You knew I'd come back..." He twisted to look at her, and beyond the anger, she could see the hurt in his face.

"So why couldn't you wait? Was he too _charming_?" He spat, and anger flared low in her stomach.

"You think it was easy on me?" She rose onto her knees and he stood, running a hand through his hair and turning away from her.

"You turned my whole world upside down!" Her voice cracked with emotion as she hopped off her bed to stand in front of him, glaring up at him, chin raised in defiance.

"I was broken when you left. I didn't know what to do, what to think. Andy.." She turned away from him, folding her arms against her chest. "He was cute and charming and everything you weren't. And that was a good thing."

"I needed to believe that I could fall in love with someone good. But it didn't work because I'm still in love with you." She felt his arms come up around her shoulders and angrily tried to push him away, but he held fast to her hands, instead pulling her into him.

"I think we have a problem then;" he whispered into the stillness of the room. "I still love you too."

It was slower this time, his hands rising to cup her face and she leaned into him, melting with his soft words and fiery kisses. Slowly, he pushed her back against the bed, still kissing her as he lay her down.

Her mind was reeling; she knew he'd loved her... He just hadn't said it before.

She gasped into his mouth as he straddled her, kissing and biting her ear. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. All she could see was him. She struggled to remember everything about him; she knew he was leaving in the morning. She held on to his smell, the way he kissed, the way he groaned when she kissed that spot below his throat, the way he made her feel; like lightning was blazing across every part of her body at once as her toes curled and un-curled simultaneously. And most of all, she struggled to remember the way she curled into his chest when it was over, the way he held her like he never was going to let her go.

She'd need to hold on to this in the morning; when he left and she hated herself for letting him in again and when she remembered all the blood on his hands.

She was so focused on all of this that she didn't even question why he was here _now_.

**xxxxxxxxx**

It was a little after sunrise when she woke; the sun was streaming in through the windows, orange and pink and gold. His eyes were still closed, his eyebrows a dark mast against his forehead. She kissed his cheek, then his mouth, then the side of his neck. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open.

"It still works on you." She propped herself up on her elbows, giving him a knowing grin.

He rolled onto his back, smirking to himself as she traced circles on his chest. She snuggled in closer, sighing as his arm pulled her in until she was practically resting on top of him.

"You know, sometimes I forget what I've done to deserve you." He said quietly, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

"Nothing." She gave him a dark look. "You don't."

There was silence for a few moments before he whispered into the top of her head. "You've kept my books, I see." His eyes flicked towards the corner cabinet. Books were practically flowing out of the old thing.

"Well," Claire said, the smile she was holding in threatening to give way, "you remember Pillars Of The Earth was one of my favorites."

"She loved him because he had brought her back to life. She had been like a caterpillar in a cocoon, and he had drawn her out and shown her that she was a butterfly." He said, playing with the ends of her hair before rolling her onto her back.

"You are a butterfly, Claire." He said with a grin and she laughed. He laughed too, before rolling over so she was on top.

"When are you leaving?" She asked finally, when the comfortable silence became too comfortable.

He winced, closing his eyes.

"In a while." He said, not offering anymore than that.

She rolled off him, tangling herself up in the white sheets. He propped himself up on his side, reaching out to trace soft circles on her hipbone.

"Are you going to go through with the wedding?"

Claire squinched her eyes shut. She didn't want to think about this right now.

She rolled onto her back. "Yes." She said, finally. There was no point in lying.

"Why?" He didn't sound mad, just generally curious. "I mean, you don't love him, do you?"

Claire looked at him for a long, long time before she answered.

"Yes, but I'm supposed to love him. I'm supposed to hate you. I'm supposed to hate the blood on your hands, but every time you're with me, I forget. And I hate myself for it, because I know that... I know that if you hadn't fallen in love with me my blood would be there too." His jaw tightened, but he remained still on the bed.

"I have to go." He said abruptly, pushing himself up and taking half of the sheets with him. She jumped to her feet, padding over to him. "I thought you said you could stay a-"

He cut her off, kissing her roughly and pushing her against the wall. "I know, but-" He paused, summoning his clothes with his telekinesis. She watched with interest, remembering all those times she hadn't been able to get her bra off and he'd just been able to without a problem. It all made sense now.

"I just realized I have something to do." He moved to put his shirt on, but she stopped him, grabbing the shirt away from him. She pulled it over his head, standing on her tip-toes to do so.

"She was unique: there was something abnormal about her, and it was that abnormal something that made her magnetic." He whispered in her ear as he kissed the side of her jaw, taking her chin in his hands.

He turned away and grabbed his jacket from the floor, turning toward the door.

"Sylar?" He turned, eyes dark, and she raced forward wrapping her arms around him and kissing him with all the passion she could muster.

Into that kiss she put all the things she'd never be able to say, all the things she wanted from him, all the things she wanted for _them. _He lingered in the kiss before pulling away, and she was left in the middle of her living room, leaning against the wall for support.

"Gabriel?" He turned, looking tired and forlorn. Maybe he hated the goodbyes too.

"Claire?"

"She wanted to say 'I love you like a thunderstorm, like a lion, like a helpless rage'" She repeated the words she knew by heart, and watched him smile genuinely, before turning away.

"Fallen angels don't deserve the mortals who try to save them either." He said, and she blinked before she heard the door slam close.

"I would like to help you back into heaven." She whispered into the emptiness.

Outside, he whispered back, a bitter smile curving onto his lips, "I don't think you can."

**xxxxxxxxxxxx**

**End Of Part 2**

Hiro watched as Peter watched Sylar leave Claire's apartment.

"Why didn't you stop him if them being together angers you?" Hiro asked, observing the deep anger that seemed to dwell inside the older man.

"I figure she's going to need these memories." He said smoothly, rising from his perch.

"For what?" Hiro's brow furrowed.

"For when I destroy him."

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait! I seem to have stumbled into a bit of a writing block. I hope you've enjoyed this installment, because I had a really fun time writing this one (even if I did take a while). Tell me what you think;)**


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